by Pierre de Ronsard (1524 - 1585)
Translation © by David Wyatt

D'un gosier machelaurier
 (Sung text for setting by G. Costeley)
 See original
Language: French (Français) 
Our translations:  ENG
D'un gosier masche-laurier 
      J'oy crier 
  Dans Lycophron ma Cassandre, 
  Qui prophetise aux Troyens 
      Les moyens 
  Qui les tapiront en cendre. 

Mais ces pauvres obstinez, 
      Destinez 
  Pour ne croire à ma Sibylle, 
  Virent, bien que tard après, 
      Les feux Grecs 
  Forcenez parmy leur ville. 

Ayans la mort dans le sein, 
      De leur main 
  Plomboient leur poitrine nue, 
  Et tordant leurs cheveux gris, 
      De longs cris 
  Pleuroient qu'ils ne l'avoient creue. 

Mais leurs cris n'eurent pouvoir 
      D'esmouvoir 
  Les Grecs, si chargez de proye, 
  Qu'ils ne laisserent sinon 
      Que le nom 
  De ce qui fut jadis Troye. 

Ainsi, pour ne croire pas, 
      Quand tu m'as 
  Predit ma peine future, 
  Et que je n'aurois en don, 
      Pour guerdon 
  De t'aimer, que la mort dure, 

Un grand brasier, sans repos, 
      Et mes os
  Et mes nerfs et mon cœur brûle, 
  Et pour t'amour j'ay receu 
      Plus de feu, 
  Que ne fit Troye incredule.

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Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):

  • ENG English (David Wyatt) , copyright © 2014, (re)printed on this website with kind permission


Researcher for this page: David Wyatt

This text was added to the website: 2014-10-27
Line count: 36
Word count: 151

Shouting with her laurel‑chewing throat
 (Sung text translation for setting by G. Costeley)
 See original
Language: English  after the French (Français) 
Shouting with her laurel-chewing throat
     I hear
My Cassandra in Lycophron
Prophesying to the Trojans
     The way
They'll be covered in ashes.

But those poor obstinate men,
     Destined
Not to believe my Sybil,
Will see, though much later,
     Greek fire
Raging through their town.

With death in their hearts,
     With their hands
They sheathed their naked breasts in lead
And tearing their grey hairs
     With long cries
They wept that they had not believed her.

But their cries had no power
     To move
The Greeks, so laden with loot
That they left nothing 
     But the name
Of what once was Troy.

So, for not believing
     When you told me
Of my future pain,
And that I should gain only,
     As trophy
For loving you, the gift of harsh death,

A great fire ceaselessly
     Burns
My bones and nerves and heart,
And for your love I've had
     More fire
Than made Troy astonished.

About the headline (FAQ)

Translator's note for line 1: According to the Byzantine scholiast Tetzes, prophets/-esses like Cassandra used to chew (poisonous) laurel/bay leaves as a way to fall into trance and communicate with the gods. In the poem by Lycophron that Ronsard references here, the same compound adjective is used; Ronsard borrowed and translated it here as a recondite piece of learning.

Text Authorship:

  • Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2014 by David Wyatt, (re)printed on this website with kind permission. To reprint and distribute this author's work for concert programs, CD booklets, etc., you may ask the copyright-holder(s) directly or ask us; we are authorized to grant permission on their behalf. Please provide the translator's name when contacting us.
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This text was added to the website: 2014-10-27
Line count: 36
Word count: 154